Don't Kill the Mockingbird
by John Fischer
Silence. But for the mockingbird going through its treasure trove of bird sounds. (One wonders if this bird has any sound of its own other than its mocking, or has its mocking become its own sound?)
Stillness. I'm in the pre-dawn hours before knowing if the sun will make an appearance today or not. At this hour it's inconsequential. There is little or no movement outside my window.
I love the early morning. Everything seems suspended in time. If I could make time stop, it would feel something like this. I love being awake while everyone else is asleep, and I immediately wonder if that is a superior thought or if there is something good in it. I honestly don't think myself as superior to everyone sleeping right now; more like being aware of a secret they may not know. That's it. I am the keeper of a secret.
“Don't imagine us as leaders to be something we aren't,” wrote Paul. “We are servants of Christ, not his masters. We are guides into God's most sublime secrets, not security guards posted to protect them” (1 Corinthians 4:1 The Message). That's it. Guides into God's most sublime secrets. I formerly thought these secrets were truths, principles, and doctrines — things written down in the Bible — but this morning I am realizing that those sublime secrets could include a mockingbird.
The early morning sprinklers pierce the stillness and I realize I am privy to that sound. It's the secret that makes this moment special. God seems nearer because of it. I know He's awake, and there are fewer things vying for my attention right now, making Him supremely obvious. He's big. He fills up the silence. The morning paper is trivia compared to Him, even though it captured my attention first this morning.
The mockingbird is offering its opinion of the morning paper, mimicking all we deem important in our search for celebrity and notoriety. (How much of the news is dominated by the ranting and raving of those seeking to be known?) …And the mockingbird mocks.
There it goes again as if to say, “You want birds? I'll give you birds. Hundreds of them. Here. Guess which one this is. Bet you can't guess. See? Told you so.” So many different renditions of birdcalls, and God sent one bird to do it all. I try to memorize one sound and wait for it to come around again and I eventually tire of waiting. If it's a cycle, I can't find where it begins or ends.
Suddenly I wonder if maybe the mockingbird is not mocking at all. Maybe it's we who are so attuned to mockery that we can't hear the bird merely sing its song - a continuous cycle of praise. Instead of killing the mockingbird, let's join in its praise with our thanksgiving. I think that's better for all of us.
this is taken from purposedrivenlife.com's daily devotional.
by John Fischer
Silence. But for the mockingbird going through its treasure trove of bird sounds. (One wonders if this bird has any sound of its own other than its mocking, or has its mocking become its own sound?)
Stillness. I'm in the pre-dawn hours before knowing if the sun will make an appearance today or not. At this hour it's inconsequential. There is little or no movement outside my window.
I love the early morning. Everything seems suspended in time. If I could make time stop, it would feel something like this. I love being awake while everyone else is asleep, and I immediately wonder if that is a superior thought or if there is something good in it. I honestly don't think myself as superior to everyone sleeping right now; more like being aware of a secret they may not know. That's it. I am the keeper of a secret.
“Don't imagine us as leaders to be something we aren't,” wrote Paul. “We are servants of Christ, not his masters. We are guides into God's most sublime secrets, not security guards posted to protect them” (1 Corinthians 4:1 The Message). That's it. Guides into God's most sublime secrets. I formerly thought these secrets were truths, principles, and doctrines — things written down in the Bible — but this morning I am realizing that those sublime secrets could include a mockingbird.
The early morning sprinklers pierce the stillness and I realize I am privy to that sound. It's the secret that makes this moment special. God seems nearer because of it. I know He's awake, and there are fewer things vying for my attention right now, making Him supremely obvious. He's big. He fills up the silence. The morning paper is trivia compared to Him, even though it captured my attention first this morning.
The mockingbird is offering its opinion of the morning paper, mimicking all we deem important in our search for celebrity and notoriety. (How much of the news is dominated by the ranting and raving of those seeking to be known?) …And the mockingbird mocks.
There it goes again as if to say, “You want birds? I'll give you birds. Hundreds of them. Here. Guess which one this is. Bet you can't guess. See? Told you so.” So many different renditions of birdcalls, and God sent one bird to do it all. I try to memorize one sound and wait for it to come around again and I eventually tire of waiting. If it's a cycle, I can't find where it begins or ends.
Suddenly I wonder if maybe the mockingbird is not mocking at all. Maybe it's we who are so attuned to mockery that we can't hear the bird merely sing its song - a continuous cycle of praise. Instead of killing the mockingbird, let's join in its praise with our thanksgiving. I think that's better for all of us.
this is taken from purposedrivenlife.com's daily devotional.
5:30 PM